Re: DEATHGAME 9000 [S!3] Round One: Gamexus X99
02-16-2012, 03:46 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
”Put that out!” snapped a woman’s voice as soon as he opened the door.
John Fairlot panicked and put out the flashlight, immediately regretting it. Something else in the room was breathing, besides John and the woman. What dim light remained in the room—emanating from who-knows-where—was trapped in the head mirror she wore and in her eyes, which he thought were brown. In spite of the darkness and the sound of guttural breathing from something that sounded like it was big he was glad to have found someone. “I’m sorry for intruding,” he said. “I’m just passing through.”
The woman thought about this. “Me too,” she decided eventually. “I’m not from here. This whole place isn’t really... my style of decor.”
John tentatively laid his gun on what he felt to be a table and sat down on what he hoped was a chair. “Do you mind” he asked the woman “If I rest here for a minute? I’m looking for my sister and I really need to get moving but I, you know, I’m starting to wear down. It’s this place.” The woman nodded.
“Everyone’s a bit run down a bit nowadays. I’ve been thinking of a place as like a vacation. Sometimes, and you can take this from a medical professional, the best way to get better is just to get away for a little while. I’m getting better here. Hip—uh... Hypocrisy too.”
John didn’t catch that last and wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to it so he changed the subject. “I’m John.”
“Trisha.” There was another awkward silent beat where Trisha’s weight shifted but it was so dark that John couldn’t tell whether or not she was offering her hand so he stayed where he was. “I’m sorry your sister’s missing, John.”
“It’s okay,” replied John. “I found her hat nailed to the wall down by the old steel mill. Then the nun... the pregnant one, Michelle, I don’t know if you’ve met her... she told me she saw a campfire out behind the cabin on top of the mountain, so I’m trying to get a car working, see if I can’t make it up the slope.”
“Well I don’t know about any of that,” said Trisha dreamily. “If you’re looking to get up a mountain, there’s nothing more reliable than a horse.” She shifted her weight again—what was that breathing?
Was there a horse in the room? His music box wasn’t playing, so it probably wasn’t anything dangerous. “Can... can you take me?” asked John.
“Nope, sorry,” said Trisha. “Hypocrisy’s taking a vacation, like me. He’s getting better. Like a caterpillar. See?”
She shifted her weight again and something clattered at John’s feet. He reached down to pick it up and whimpered in pain when something sharp pricked his skin. He couldn’t see the blood of course in the darkness but when he licked his palm he could taste that he was bleeding just a little. Feeling around more carefully he picked up the empty syringe and put it in his bag next to the jumper cables the gascan Crystal’s hat the music box the crowbar his ammunition and several first aid kits. “Thanks,” he told Trisha, with it understood between the both of them that if he contracted some horrible infection from the pinprick his gratitude was revoked.
“Don’t worry about it,” she responded. “I have a whole box full of them at my clinic.” John grabbed his gun and stood up.
“I should move on,” he apologized. “I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah,” said Trisha. “Sure.”
John thought to himself that this girl was probably a little unhinged.
That was okay, though. This town seemed to do that to people. When he walked out the back door into the corridor the music box in his backpack began playing that sad old tune he remembered from his childhood but couldn’t place, and that meant that he wasn’t safe here. He took out his gun and turned on his flashlight and looked the face of fear right where its eyes should be and shot it in the face until it fell down and then once more so it would stop looking at him. He was getting better at that.
”Put that out!” snapped a woman’s voice as soon as he opened the door.
John Fairlot panicked and put out the flashlight, immediately regretting it. Something else in the room was breathing, besides John and the woman. What dim light remained in the room—emanating from who-knows-where—was trapped in the head mirror she wore and in her eyes, which he thought were brown. In spite of the darkness and the sound of guttural breathing from something that sounded like it was big he was glad to have found someone. “I’m sorry for intruding,” he said. “I’m just passing through.”
The woman thought about this. “Me too,” she decided eventually. “I’m not from here. This whole place isn’t really... my style of decor.”
John tentatively laid his gun on what he felt to be a table and sat down on what he hoped was a chair. “Do you mind” he asked the woman “If I rest here for a minute? I’m looking for my sister and I really need to get moving but I, you know, I’m starting to wear down. It’s this place.” The woman nodded.
“Everyone’s a bit run down a bit nowadays. I’ve been thinking of a place as like a vacation. Sometimes, and you can take this from a medical professional, the best way to get better is just to get away for a little while. I’m getting better here. Hip—uh... Hypocrisy too.”
John didn’t catch that last and wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to it so he changed the subject. “I’m John.”
“Trisha.” There was another awkward silent beat where Trisha’s weight shifted but it was so dark that John couldn’t tell whether or not she was offering her hand so he stayed where he was. “I’m sorry your sister’s missing, John.”
“It’s okay,” replied John. “I found her hat nailed to the wall down by the old steel mill. Then the nun... the pregnant one, Michelle, I don’t know if you’ve met her... she told me she saw a campfire out behind the cabin on top of the mountain, so I’m trying to get a car working, see if I can’t make it up the slope.”
“Well I don’t know about any of that,” said Trisha dreamily. “If you’re looking to get up a mountain, there’s nothing more reliable than a horse.” She shifted her weight again—what was that breathing?
Was there a horse in the room? His music box wasn’t playing, so it probably wasn’t anything dangerous. “Can... can you take me?” asked John.
“Nope, sorry,” said Trisha. “Hypocrisy’s taking a vacation, like me. He’s getting better. Like a caterpillar. See?”
She shifted her weight again and something clattered at John’s feet. He reached down to pick it up and whimpered in pain when something sharp pricked his skin. He couldn’t see the blood of course in the darkness but when he licked his palm he could taste that he was bleeding just a little. Feeling around more carefully he picked up the empty syringe and put it in his bag next to the jumper cables the gascan Crystal’s hat the music box the crowbar his ammunition and several first aid kits. “Thanks,” he told Trisha, with it understood between the both of them that if he contracted some horrible infection from the pinprick his gratitude was revoked.
“Don’t worry about it,” she responded. “I have a whole box full of them at my clinic.” John grabbed his gun and stood up.
“I should move on,” he apologized. “I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah,” said Trisha. “Sure.”
John thought to himself that this girl was probably a little unhinged.
That was okay, though. This town seemed to do that to people. When he walked out the back door into the corridor the music box in his backpack began playing that sad old tune he remembered from his childhood but couldn’t place, and that meant that he wasn’t safe here. He took out his gun and turned on his flashlight and looked the face of fear right where its eyes should be and shot it in the face until it fell down and then once more so it would stop looking at him. He was getting better at that.
Spoiler